took Elliot and me to a diner with sticky menus and huge pancakes.
Elliot poured too much syrup. “Are you still sad, Daddy?”
“But you still came to pancakes.”
Sasha squeezed my hand under the table.
I had spent years proving I was home. That morning, with my kids beside me and one chair empty, I stopped proving it to someone who had chosen not to see me.continue reading …
